


to be so lonely

by brookethenerd



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Happy Ending, Roommates, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:21:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21825067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brookethenerd/pseuds/brookethenerd
Summary: Robin is in love with the reader, but the reader is dating Steve(aka a college roommates au, angst, and a happy ending for everyone because im a sap)
Relationships: Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley/Original Female Character(s), Robin Buckley/Reader, Steve Harrington/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 63





	1. don't blame me for falling

Being in love with your best friend is less than ideal. Being in love with your best friend, who is dating your other best friend, is even worse. Throw in a roommate situation, and it’s borderline torture. 

Scratch that: it’s _one hundred percent_ torture. And Robin Buckley would know. 

She thought she was over you when you and Steve asked her to be the third roommate in your apartment. But the first time she walked into the kitchen to find you and Steve pressed together, laughing as you kissed, she realized just how untrue that was. 

That was the thing about moving on. You think you’ve made it, and then you realize you’ve got a lot more moving to do, more moving than you thought possible.

“I thought you had a study group tonight,” you said as Robin came into the living room. Steve was working a late shift at the movie theater - all three of you worked there to help with tuition - and it was just you and Robin, tonight. 

“Cancelled. Shockingly, college students aren’t as interested in studying as they are getting drunk on a Tuesday night.”

“ _We_ got drunk last Tuesday.” 

“Touché,” Robin said, dropping down onto the couch beside you. You handed her the bowl of popcorn in your lap, and she shoveled out a handful before sending it back to you. You drew your socked feet up onto the couch and shifted to face her, arms slung around your knees. 

“How’s it going with that girl? The one with the boyfriend? Has she figured out how much better you’d be for her yet?” 

Robin’s stomach sank. You were naturally inquisitive, and knew Robin liked _someone_ ; you just didn’t think it was _you_. And the thing was, she couldn’t say you’d be better off with her. Steve may be a dingus, but he was her best friend, and he was a good man. Sweet and goofy and bordering on the obtuse side, but he was good to you. He was good to Robin. 

It had been perfect before she realized how she felt about you. Being gay in Hawkins, Indiana, was like a loneliness-life-sentence. And then she’d found friendship with you and Steve like nothing she’d had before. 

But, of course, her feelings had to come in and ruin it. Ruin it just like she’d ruined everything else. 

“No, not yet. I don’t think she ever will.”

You frowned and stuck a leg out to nudge her with your toe, drawing her attention to your face. You looked so sad on her behalf, heartbroken at the idea that Robin was alone and lonely. If only you knew the truth. If only you knew that it was you she wanted so badly it hurt; it was you that might never come around. 

She couldn’t ask that of you; she couldn’t do that to Steve. 

“Don’t say that,” you said, pouting. “You never know.” 

_I do know. I do._

Robin plastered a plastic smile on her face in the hopes of appeasing you. 

“It is what it is,” she said. “There’ll be other girls.” _I hope._

“I’m sorry, Rob.” The nickname only sent pangs of longing through her chest, making it hard to breathe. “I wish I could just…snap my fingers and make everything work out. Make you happy.” 

“I know.” Robin smiled sadly, and you shifted across the couch, wrapping an arm around her and tugging her into your side. As much as she wanted to pull away, she let herself sink against you, head on your shoulder, and pretend that you were more than friends; pretend you were more than this. But Robin had come to realize you probably never would be. 

The lock on the door wiggled and creaked at your third roommate’s entrance, and Steve pushed into the apartment, bundled up against the cold. His nose was pink, cheeks flushed, and a smile overtook his face at the sight of you. It made Robin’s belly twist. 

“If you guys are watching Predator without me, I swear to god-”

“Oh, relax.” You maneuvered yourself out of Robin’s arms and got up to greet your boyfriend, who wrapped you in a hug and pressed a kiss to your cheek. 

“Jesus, Steve, your lips are _freezing_.” 

“Oh? I guess you don’t want a kiss, then,” he said, waggling his brows. You shrieked and tried to dart away, but he snaked an arm out and caught you by the waist, pulling you back against him and pressing kisses to your nose, your cheeks, and finally, your mouth. 

Robin had to look away; she didn’t think she’d be able to breathe if she stared a moment longer. 

“Steve!” You protested. He laughed and took your hand, tugging you toward the couch and shrugging off his work vest before collapsing into the cushions roughly with you on top of him. You rolled off his lap but didn’t move far, feet drawn up onto the couch, sitting against him. 

“How was the study group?” He asked, attention turned to Robin. 

“Cancelled,” you answered for her. Steve made a face. 

“Damn alcoholics.” 

“I don’t think you can call anyone that, considering the spread in our fridge.” 

“Hey, we only get drunk on weekdays sometimes. Not every night, like those assholes from Robin’s bio class,” Steve said. 

“Fair point,” you said. 

“Movie time?” Robin asked, desperate for the quiet, for a few hours of staring at the TV and pretending her heart wasn’t being ripped out and stomped on. You and Steve nodded, and she jumped up to put the VHS in. 

And for a little while, so long as she didn’t think or look over at you and Steve, fingers twined together, she found a semblance of peace. 

* * *

When Robin meandered out in the middle of the night to get a drink, she saw you sitting cross-legged on the counter, hand jammed into a Cheez Itz bag. You lifted your head when she came in, lips curling up in a smile, and Robin’s chest tightened. It wasn’t particularly a special moment - you were in your PJs, hand coated in cheese, hair a mess from sleep - but Robin fell a little harder at the sight. It was the little moments in which she fell for you, and kept falling. 

“Top o’ the morning to you,” you said, handing her the cracker box. She took it and dumped a handful of crackers into her hand solely for something to do and gave it back. 

“It’s four in the morning.”

“Technically morning,” you said. “For some people.”

Robin snorted a laugh and hopped up onto the counter across from you, sitting back against the cupboards. 

“Can’t sleep?” You asked. Robin nodded. “The cheese should help.”

“Cheez Itz are natural sedatives, I hear,” she said. You laughed, and the sound tore the sky - and Robin’s heart - open. She didn’t react quickly enough, a frown stuck to her face for longer than she intended, and you noticed, your own lips turning down. 

“Everything okay?”

She shrugged, tipping her head back and closing her eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I’m sorry things suck. I wish I could make it easier.”

You could. 

“How?” Robin hadn’t realized she’s spoken aloud, and panic shot through her blood at your reply. Her eyes snapped open, and she met your gaze. 

Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or perhaps the Cheez Itz had truth-telling properties, or maybe she was just tired of hiding, but her mouth opened and she spoke before she’d even realized it. 

“I love you.”

You tilted your head, brows furrowed, lips curling up ever so slightly. 

“I love you, too.”

“No,” Robin said, “Not like that.” 

The silence that fell over the room was suffocating, and for a long moment, neither of you said anything. Robin wished for a moment she could tuck the words back in her mouth, but it was somewhat of a relief to finally say them. To lay the cards on the table, even if you decided to shove them away. Some kind of ending was better than none at all. 

“Robin,” you said, voice so sad it was almost impossible to listen to. 

“Just forget I said anything.”

“The girl…with the boyfriend…” Robin didn’t stop you, letting you put the pieces together for yourself. “She’s…me.”

Robin nodded, lips pursed. “Yeah.”

“Oh,” you said, drawing your knees up and wrapping your arms around them, features contorted as you sifted through the realization. It was the longest twenty seconds of Robin’s life. 

“Robin, you know that I…you know I love you.”

“Just not like that.” 

Your lips parted, and Robin could tell you wished you didn’t have to say it. But you did; she _needed_ you to. 

“I’m sorry. I’m…”

“With Steve.”

You deflated, nodding. “I’m so sorry, Robin. I’m so-”

“Not your fault,” said. “You were the one that told me we don’t get to choose who we fall in love with.” 

You closed your eyes, and when you opened them, they were glazed. 

“I wish-I just…I’m sorry. I’m sorry. The last thing I ever want to do is hurt you.”

Robin gave you a sad smile. 

“I know.”

“If there’s anything I can do - anything we can do - to…to make it better…”

“It just takes time, I think,” she said. You frowned, the pain evident on your face. Robin climbed off the counter and moved to yours, hopping up beside you. 

“It’s okay,” she said. “It really is.”

“It _isn’t_.”

“It will be. One day.”

You turned to look at her, that frown glued to your lips. She hated that it was her that made you feel that way. But there wasn’t anything to be done; neither of you could snap your fingers and make the pain go away. Pain didn’t work like that. It stayed until it didn’t, and that was it. That was all there was. 

“You deserve the fucking world, Robin Buckley,” you said sadly, “and I’m sorry I can’t give it to you.” 

Robin leaned her head against your shoulder, and you wrapped an arm around her. That, at least, wasn’t broken. That one thing. 

“It isn’t your fault,” she said. 

“I hate this.”

“Me too.”

You let out a sigh and closed your eyes. Robin did the same. 

“Can you just…not tell Steve about this? Just for a little while? I don’t…I don’t want…”

“I won’t,” you said. “I won’t say anything.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you said, though the words fell flat. 

“You’re still my best friend, you know. That doesn’t have to change.”

You turned to look at her, giving her a thin-lipped smile. 

“Good. Because you’re all I’ve got.” 

* * *

It didn’t get easier. Robin knew it wouldn’t; she knew it wasn’t as simple as that. For the next few days, she did her best to give you space, though you hadn’t asked for it. It was just less painful. It hurt to be around you, and it hurt not to be, but at least with the latter, she didn’t have to pretend around Steve. 

Four days after the late-night confession, Robin came come to find you, Steve, and a girl she’d never met at the table. Your textbooks were spread across the table, a sea of pages and highlighters covering the wood. 

“Robin! Come save us from our misery!” Steve called as you stepped through the door, hanging your coat on the hanger. She made her way over to the table and dropped into the empty chair, nudging the girl’s textbook aside to make room for her elbows. 

“This,” Steve said, “Is Reagan, and she’s a certified genius. She’s saving our asses for this exam.”

The girl - Reagan - smiled and met Robin’s gaze. She couldn’t be sure, but she was pretty sure Reagan’s cheeks had gone red at her arrival. 

Robin hadn’t looked at many girls - scratch that, any - since realizing how she felt about you, but it was impossible not to notice how beautiful Reagan was. Dark hair that fell in waves around her shoulders, piercing green eyes, and a Guns N’ Roses tee shirt. 

“By that, he means I’m the only one that actually did the reading, and I’m here to have my brain picked,” Reagan said, never taking her eyes off Robin. Something yawned open inside her, that not-so-painful twinge. 

Robin met your gaze across the table, and you arched a brow, jerking a chin at Reagan nonchalantly. Her brows furrowed, and you waggled your eyebrows, making Robin snort, drawing Steve and Reagan’s attention. 

“You know, Robin here is also a certified genius.” 

“A bit of an exaggeration,” Robin said. “Kind of hard not to look like one when you live with Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington.”

“‘The Hair?’” Reagan asked. Steve groaned, shaking his head. 

“Can we not-”

“Oh, we _can_ ,” you said. You looked to Robin, silently urging her to speak, and Robin met Reagan’s eyes, lips curling up in a smile of their own accord. 

“You see, in high school….”

At the end of the study session, as Steve escorted Reagan out, you slid into the chair beside Robin and nudged her arm. 

“I don’t look so great next to her, huh?” You asked. Robin snorted a laugh, but your words were partly accurate. It wouldn’t be an easy mountain to climb to get over you, but the best way to move on was to just do it. Throw yourself into the water and learn to swim on the go. 

Maybe, just maybe, things weren’t as bleak as they seemed. 


	2. plant new seeds in the melody

The break up hurt far less than you expected. After four years together, you anticipated a deadly fallout, Chernobyl style, an implosion, destruction. You expected to lose Steve altogether.

Except, you didn’t.

The disillusion you’d felt over the past weeks - since Robin’s confession - had not, it turned out, been limited only to you. It turned out, Steve’s rose-colored lenses had broken, too.

It started with an argument, a silly disagreement over a forgotten grocery item, but the debate ended when you’d asked _why are we doing this?_

And Steve had said, _I don’t know._

It wasn’t that you didn’t love him - you did, you had for as long as you could remember - but that the love had changed, morphed, shifted into something different. You loved him, but you weren’t _in_ love with him. He was comfortable, and secure, and caring, but he didn’t set your skin alight when he touched it, didn’t draw you in as he had when you were younger.

He was your best friend, and he was no longer any more than that.

In the end, you’d sat beside one another on the couch and talked until dark fell, going around and around until you finally reached the realization that had been hanging above you for weeks: the romantic part of your relationship was over. It was sad, but also a little bit happy, too. Sad, to lose the familiarity and to walk away from so many good memories, so many years spent together. But happy, happy to see the boy you loved as the man he’d become.

When you got off the couch, you didn’t feel as though you’d lost everything, or even lost him. You were still roommates, and while Steve would be moving into the spare bedroom, he wasn’t going anywhere. Neither were you.

* * *

“Where’s Robin?” Steve asked through a mouth full of popcorn. It’d been a month since the break-up, and you’d been shocked to find it was actually _easier_ now. Like you and Steve had been in the wrong places, but now that you’d reshuffled, the balance was restored. Steve, Robin, and Y/N. The iconic trio - self-proclaimed by Steve, at least.

“Study group. With that girl, Reagan,” you said. Reagan had made more than her fair share of appearances in the last few weeks, and while you’d liked her at first, thought she was a good fit for Robin, now her presence - or Robin’s lack of it - grated you.

Steve sat up and nudged you with a sock-covered foot. His lips quirked up in that knowing smirk of his, and you arched your brows.

“What?”

“Is someone… _jealous_?” Steve waggled his brows. You snorted.

“She’s my best friend. I just want someone good for her.”

“I thought _I_ was your best friend?”

“You can have more than one, you know,” you said. He shrugged, leaning back into the cushions and crossing his arms.

“I think Reagan’s cool.”

“That’s because every time she comes over, she brings us food.”

“I find that _very_ cool,” he said.

“Your stomach is a bottomless pit.”

Steve frowned and patted his belly.

“Don’t talk about her like that.”

“God, I forgot how annoying you were.”

“Love is blind,” he said with a grin, stretching his legs out, feet on your lap. You rolled your eyes and shoved them off, earning a disgruntled noise in response. His smile slipped away, face serious, and you stilled.

“If you _are_ jealous…that’s okay, you know. I don’t want you to hold yourself back because of _me_. Because of us.”

Even if it was true - which it wasn’t - it wasn’t as simple as that. Even if you did like Robin - you didn’t - there was far too much history between the three of you for it not to be awkward and tense and horrible. Even if you wanted something to happen - which you didn’t; _did you?_ \- it was far too complicated to even _think_ about.

You laughed it off, shrugging a shoulder dismissively.

“If Robin wants to…go out with Reagan, that’s her business. I don’t care, as long as she’s happy,” you said. Steve chewed on the inside of his cheek, obviously biting back his words - he’d known you long enough to know some battles couldn’t be won - but luckily, didn’t press it further.

“Whatever you say.”

* * *

With midterms turning campus to a graveyard and the library to a bustling, caffeine buzzing, desperation filled hive. You saw little of Robin and Steve, the three of you running around to finish papers and take tests and study until your brains imploded.

On the Friday after midterms, when the relief that filled the students and school grounds was palpable, the three of you headed out onto the town; and by town, you meant dark, stuffy frat houses with free beer.

After a riveting game of beer pong - with hard alcohol in the cups instead of beer, no one was a winner - Steve ended up on the makeshift dance floor with a girl from one of his classes, short and pretty, and ever so nervous around him.

“Wonder if she’d still be nervous if she saw him cry at the end of ET,” Robin said, the two of you stood in the kitchen, watching him across the counter. You snorted a laugh, taking a drag from your cup.

“ _It’s just allergies!_ ”

“ _Guys, come on, it’s sad as fuck!_ ”

You both collapsed into alcohol-spurred giggles, leaning against one another for support. Robin’s hand gripped your arm for support, and at the touch, you lifted your head and scanned the room.

“Is Reagan coming?” Just saying her name made something twist painfully inside you, but you were trying to be a good friend.

Something imperceptible flickered across Robin’s face, and she hesitated before shaking her head.

“She’s staying in tonight. Caught the midterm bug,” she said. Half the campus had fallen this week, half to insomnia and dehydration, the other half to the flu that always raged during exams.

“At least she’s not in the hospital. Three kids from my bio lab dropped like flies.”

Robin crinkled her nose.

“Jesus,” she said. “Maybe _we_ should be drinking water.”

You lifted your cup to your lips and took a long sip, to which Robin tipped her head back and laughed, the alcohol and relief at exams ending loosening you both.

“Or, more of this,” she said.

“More of this, for sure.”

Steve picked his way through the throng of people to the counter, leaning against it and jerking his chin toward the dance floor.

“This is our song!” He exclaimed, words slurring ever so slightly. Whitney Houston’s I Wanna Dance With Somebody pulsed out of massive boom sitting on a table across the room. You and Robin exchanged a look, grinning, and slipped around the counter and out into the main room, dragging Steve with you to the middle of the floor.

The girl Steve was dancing with returned, and he smiled widely at her, taking her hand and spinning her, to which she laughed delightedly. Robin caught your eye, arching a brow as if to ask, _you okay?_

And surprisingly, you were. Seeing Steve dance with a new girl was nowhere near as hard as it should have been. In fact, you found yourself happy for him, happy that he was happy. You give Robin a reassuring smile and a nod, taking her hands and moving to the music. The verse fell into the chorus, the music swelling, bodies swaying and dancing and bumping against one another in the dark, drunken haze.

You stretched your arms up, swaying them to the beat with everyone else, feet catching the rhythm, the whole room singing along. Robin’s hands found your waist, and yours settled on her hips, eyes blown and smiles wide as you bobbed and jumped and screamed the lyrics to each other.

You stayed that way through the next three songs, only leaving the dance floor when the music soured. You stumbled out of the mob with Robin beside you, escaping to the safety of the stairs, climbing to the top step, and dropping down. It was quieter there, though the music made the floor thump like it had a heartbeat.

“How’s it going with you and Steve?”

“Still good,” you said, inclining your head. “I think, maybe, this is how it’s supposed to be. Like, we were good for each other for a long time, but we aren’t those people anymore. I think we’re meant to be friends.”

“And you’re okay with that?” She asked, cocking a brow.

You shrugged, leaning against the wall, turned halfway on the stair.

“Surprisingly so,” you said. “I think my heart figured it all out before my brain did.”

“Hearts are like that,” she said.

“Well, they need to work on their communication skills.”

Robin laughed, gaze falling to the railing along the stairs, and the people milling about in the hallway below it. _Looking for Reagan_ , you thought.

You didn’t want her to look for Reagan. You wanted her to look at you and not need to find anyone else.

The realization struck you hard and fast, nearly knocking the breath out of you. You set your cup down harshly on the stair, and liquid sloshed out.

_We don’t get to choose who we fall in love with_. You’d told Robin those very words years ago, and she’d parroted them back to you a month and a half prior when she’d confessed her feelings.

Your heart hadn’t caught your brain up at that point, and you were suddenly terrified you’d missed your chance, struck out before you realized you had the opportunity to swing.

* * *

Steve stayed over at the girl’s - Ava’s - apartment for the first time the next week, and you were totally fine with it. Honestly, the only thing you _weren’t_ fine with was that it meant Robin and you had the apartment to yourselves, and since coming to terms with your own feelings, you hadn’t known what to say to her.

It’d been two months since she told you she loved you and seeing how often she hung out with Reagan, you were sure you’d missed your shot. You understood how she’d felt before, though your pain paled to hers; at least you weren’t roommates with both of them.

The thing about loving people is that you want them to be happy, even if it isn’t with you. Even at the cost of your own fortune, your own happiness. And if Robin was happy with Reagan, you’d stay away.

Robin, fresh out of the shower, meandered into the kitchen, the scent of floral soap wafting into the living room where you sat. Against what was probably your better judgment, you climbed off the couch and joined her in the kitchen, leaning against the small island.

“Heading out tonight?” You asked. Robin gave you a small smile and shook her head.

“Nope,” she said. “You’re stuck with me for the night.”

“What’s Reagan up to?”

Her brow twitched, and she leaned back against the counter.

“She’s visiting home. Why?”

“Just curious.” You folded your arms, inclining your head. “You guys have been hanging out a lot.”

“Missing me?” The words were meant to tease, but you felt like you’d been slapped.

_Desperately, so._

You huffed, and Robin’s lips quirked up.

“Is Steve…at…you know who’s?”

“Ava’s? Yeah,” you said. She eyed you curiously as if expecting more.

“What? I don’t care if he stays over. We’re not together anymore.”

“Yeah, but you dated for a long time. You’re telling me it doesn’t bother you _at all_ that he’s with someone else?”

You pursed your lips, the truth bubbling up in your chest, threatening to break through.

“I don’t care if _he’s_ with someone else.”

“But…you care if… _someone else_ is with someone else?” She asked, not quite catching the thread. You nodded, helpless.

“Care to share with the class?”

“Not really.”

“Oh, come on. You have to tell me.”

“I certainly do _not_.”

Robin moved to lean against the other side of the island, fingers gripping the marble countertop.

“Tell me. Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me.”

“I’m not telling you-”

“Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me-”

“ _You_ ,” you snapped, the force of that one word rendering Robin silent. She hung there for the moment like a sheet clipped to a line on a windless day, unmoving, unblinking. She recovered after a moment, her voice low.

“Me?”

“You.”

She pushed off the counter, turning halfway, shaking her head. She paced across the small kitchen as you watched, miserably.

“You couldn’t have told me that before I enlisted a wing woman?”

“You-a what?”

A smile tugged on her lips, and she moved a foot away from you, eyes bright.

“Reagan? She’s my wingman. She’s helping me, not dating me.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” Robin said, nodding, that same amused smile on her lips.

“But, I thought-”

“ _Oh_ , I know what you thought.”

“So…you…?”

“Still love you?”

You nodded, cheeks flushed. Robin stepped closer.

“I never stopped,” she said.

You don’t know who moved first, but suddenly you were kissing, Robin’s fingers bunching the fabric at your waist, fallen strands of her hair tickling your cheeks. She smelled of lavender and jasmine, and she tasted of mint toothpaste.

The kiss was frantic at first, all moving hands and bumping noses, but it deepened and slowed, both of you quick learners, quickly finding the places you fit together.

When you broke apart to catch your breath, Robin tipped her forehead against yours, her breath warm on your lips.

“I love you, too, you know,” you murmured. Robin tilted her chin up ever so slightly, nose brushing yours tenderly, and she leaned back to meet your gaze.

“Yeah, I got that,” she said.

“Just had to make sure,” you said and kissed her again. And again, and again.


End file.
